Lay your burden down?

It was a normal day at the store where my friend Michelle and I were working. The owner was there too, and we all heard it at the same time: the rush of running water. We looked up in horror as a flood of water poured down a wall, threatening to soak everything in its path. In this upscale, high end store that was an especially worrisome potential disaster. 

We three flew into action and with nearly super human speed cleared the area, saving most of the merchandise. In a couple of hours, when everything had calmed down, the owner and I noticed Michelle laughing hysterically. Thinking perhaps the stress of the situation had made her a little crazy, the owner said, "What in the world is wrong?" Through fits of laughter she told us what had happened, that in all of the melee, we had missed. 

In that soon to be flooded corner of the store sat a beautiful antique table. Part of its uniqueness was the fact that it only had two legs. It was a corner table and the corner of the table fit into a corner of a room. The two front legs, along with the tension of the table against the corner of the wall, fit it securely into its place. As we had quickly cleared off the small table, Michelle had grabbed the table and run off with it. 

She was telling us later, through tears of laughter, that she had run around in a panic trying to find a corner to put the table into. Every other single corner of the store was already occupied and while the owner and I were frantically trying to save valuable merchandise from an impending flood, she was stuck with this table and had absolutely no place to put it. She literally ran from corner to corner in the store until finally the frenzied cloud lifted from her mind she had the wherewithall to lay it gently in the middle of the storeroom floor on its side. 

Now that the water was stopped and the damage was at a minimum,  the relief allowed us to see the humor of her being stuck with that corner table, and the three of us laughed until we cried. Surely the trauma and stress had made us a little lightheaded, but never did I dust that table or arrange merchandise on it that a giggle not escape from me at the mental image of sweet Michelle stuck running around with that table with absolutely no place to put it. 

And in the now probably fifteen years that since that day, I have thought of that table on more than one occasion.

As I reflect back, I think it was my miscarriage that first felt like that corner table. I had no where to put it. I certainly had love and support from so many during that time, but no one could truly bare the grief that I felt for my baby. Even my gracious and well meaning husband tried so hard to understand my deep grief for a child that was his too, but I felt the distance in our griefs. I don't think it was possible for anyone to truly grieve the way that I did for that baby. And to this day I will occasionally and quite surprisingly find the longing for that child so great that I lose my breath, especially when I see a toddling girl with blonde bouncy curls. 

See, there was no where to lay this grief. 

I became more and more thankful to the Lord for the work He was doing in me. I appreciated the way He was growing me, teaching me and stretching me.

And there were days I asked Him to stop because it was too hard. And too much. 

Then as should have been expected, the Lord graciously added more to what He was teaching. Lead me on new paths. Soon I found myself in completely uncharted territory. No manuals here. No one to help. No one to ask advice. Just a wide open road of trust...

And no where to lay the fear of the unknown.

Just like that corner table, I simply carried it with me all of the time. 

Soon I found myself more of a confidant that I had every been before. Willing to carry burdens of those I loved. Willing to be one who would not utter another's heart. I was thankful to be used. And I had no place to lay these new burdens. 

I struggled under the weight of it.

I got quieter. More reserved. I felt the need less and less to outwardly express myself. I felt myself turning inwardly more and more, relying on God to share my heart. He felt like the only safe place to lay it all down. Unfortunately my pull toward the tangible missed the concrete place to truly cast burdens down. I struggled to learn a way to give God the burdens of my heart and feel the physical release of it all too.

This is when I picked up a pen and paper again. I spilled it all out onto yellow paper, thankful that the receptacle honored the secrets that I bestowed upon it. I would feel relief as I pressed word into paper. It felt like I really gave it to Christ. 

My corner table had found a corner. A safe corner. 

And I was healed from the desire to share my heart with another human.

And soon that became a problem.

{dangit}

I then became called to share my heart with others. 

And I wasn't okay with that. I felt the fear that sharing again might undo all that I had learned. I had been healed of the constant sharing, but now perhaps too healed? Now I proudly needed no one. 

This was problematic in a new way.

And I was exhausted. 

The Lord pressed me to learn to share my heart appropriately, and it has been a hard, hard journey. I prefer still to pour it all out to Him, pen to paper. I am learning to trust. I am learning to share. I am seeing the benefit of the properly shared heart. 

And I am learning that my heart still wants to whine and complain instead of sharing the hard in a way that gives Him a change to be glorified in my weakness. 

It was hard to study 1 Corinthians 9 last week and see Paul's exhortation to suffer in silence. 

1 Corinthians 9:12 " ...we endure all things so that we will cause no hindrance to the gospel of Christ."

"The basic meaning of  'endure' is 'to bear over or to pass over in silence.' ''

Ouch. This means I don't get to complain? I see this as one side of my issue.

I like to whine, "this is hard..." from time to time.

On the other hand, Paul said I didn't have to share my heart.

See how things work over here?

I am struggling to see how to balance this all in the way that best shares His gospel and points to His glory. 

Being honest and truthful about my story, yet telling it in a way that gives the glory to Him, is hard. 

Even in the day to day stuff: I want to make sure everyone knows how hard I'm working over there. 

Someone really needs to appreciate all this hard work and dedication. 

I am so fleshly. 

See, I spin this the way I want to. I shut myself off from those that love me so that I don't have to push myself out of my comfort zone and share my heart. And certainly I don't have to share parts my heart, or all of it, with the younger girls God has graciously allowed me to share life with, or with the friends that I have that are my own age. {Yes, I have friends that are my own age. I promise, I do.}

But as soon as things get hard, I will, with the perfect flavor of humor as not to be "complaining" share my discontent with the world via social media so that I feel vindicated and validated that this is all, indeed, rather hard.

...slow to anger and abounding in love...

This is the Lord that bears with me. 

And here is where He is teaching me to learn how and when to bear and when to share and when to shut up:

I found myself in a potential freak out spot last week. 

I mean I wanted to full on FREAK OUT. 

Tears, yelling (or hollering as the redneck me tends to do when really FREAKING OUT) all with a good dash of whining.

I felt the unmistakable pull of the Lord saying, "Come meet Me in Scripture..."

"Well, Lord, that takes WORK...

I'd rather freak out. Thankyouverymuch."

Proof of His gracious work in my life proves itself in the fact that I actually obeyed.

I met Him in Scripture. 

Seriously. I really did.

He did a work in me through His Word. 

Just me and the Word. 

So instead of FREAKING OUT and complaining and whining to the kind soul who was willing to listen in the first place, after obeying, communing with the Lord and spending time with Him in the pages of His Word, I got to go back to that patient soul and rejoice in how the Lord had just worked in my soul, taught me new ways of dealing with the same old junk, MET ME IN THE HARD and hallelujah, kept that kind person from hearing me vomit my dysfunction all in their general direction.

I think that's praiseworthy.

That's when I was struck again by Paul's exhortation to "suffer silently."

It's not punishment.

It's not to make me crazy. Or to make me feel secluded. Or make me feel cut off from the world. Or make me feel like I'm all alone.

It's to 

SHUT ME UP LONG ENOUGH FOR GOD TO DO SOMETHING.

And you know what? That's far better than me babbling some complaints to someone who really feels helpless to actually help me. Instead I got to celebrate a powerful, caring and loving Father who really is willing to meet us where we are and do a work if we will let Him.

Sweet hallelujah. 

So.

This is what I'm learning about how and where to lay burdens down. Maybe for me it's just the learning to take it all to Him first. And be willing to wait while He tells me what to do next. Share it? Get over it? Forget it? Put it aside until another time? Pray over it? Search Scripture about it?

Or, heaven forbid, tell someone about it?

I'm learning. I'm learning when to share. I'm learning when to shut up. I'm learning to want whatever I say to glorify Him more than I want it to gratify my flesh. And I fail. But I'm learning. 

And praise be to Him that He's a patient teacher. 

And praise Him that He really will not leave me hauling around this corner table unless it really does make me look more like Him.